


The Adventures of Henry Mills

by FaeryPeopleOfTheFutureDay



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:35:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 12,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25393198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaeryPeopleOfTheFutureDay/pseuds/FaeryPeopleOfTheFutureDay
Summary: Now 18, Henry Mills leaves Storybrooke to go to college and find out his place in the world. His author powers don't exactly go away, even surrounded by seemingly ordinary people. Everyone has a story.
Kudos: 2





	1. Goodnight Sweet Prince

"Bandaids, cough syrup, aspirin, rubbing alchohol," my mother ran through an inventory of the medical supplies in my bathroom cabinet. "Oh no," she muttered to herself. "We forgot the gauze."

"What, are we making sure the kid's ready for college or sending him off to war?" Emma, my other mom joked.

"Emma, I am letting my baby boy be on his own for the first time, and he is going to be prepared in case of an emergency." Emma sighed.

"Alright kid," she said to me. "It looks like we're going back to the store again. Anything else you want us to pick up while we're there?"

"Yeah, maybe some more poptarts," I replied.

"Poptarts?" My mother exclaimed, as if a 7-year-old had just asked for icecream for breakfast.

"What flavor?" Emma asked.

I scoffed. "Is that even a question?"

"Brown sugar cinnamon." Emma deduced. "You got it, kid."

"Those sugary toaster pastries do not make a healthy breakfast for a growing boy," my mother continued. Emma gave me a wink behind my mother's back as they walked out the door and I grinned, knowing I was getting those poptarts.

I opened another box and proceeded to fill up my drawers with the clothes my mother had so neatly folded for me. This would probably be the last time my shirts would be this wrinkle free. _At least until I go back home for Christmas in 4 months,_ I reminded myself, determined not to tear up at laundry.

I had two other roommates. Technically they were my suitemates, as we each had our own teeny tiny bedrooms but shared a cramped common area that contained a kitchen, dining room, and living room, while occupying the square footage of half my mother's kitchen. Did I mention everything at college is small and cramped? We do get a tiny little sink, microwave, and fridge, though. So that's nice.

I was the first to move in. Next came Timmy, a skinny Asian boy who said he was majoring in graphic design. That seems to be the main question you ask people when you don't know what to say to them. What's your major?

"Hey, dude," a skinny Asian boy said to me as he set down some boxes in the common area. "I'm Timmy."

"Henry," I introduced myself.

"Graphic design" he said, matter-of factly.

"Huh?" I asked.

"My major," he explained. "That just seems to be the question college people ask each other when they don't know what else to say." He shrugged awkwardly.

"Yeah, well I guess the infamous ' _so where are you going to college?'_ question of our senior year just seems kind of outdated now." He chuckled and started unpacking boxes as his family moved in some more of his stuff.

"Wow," a younger girl who I assumed was his little sister exclaimed. "This place is actually really clean."

I grinned. "Yeah, my moms spent a good bit of yesterday morning sanitizing every inch of this place. Although to be fair, there's not that many square inches in this place."

"Moms?" Timmy asked, raising an eyebrow. I shrugged it off, not really feeling like drawing out the complicated family tree for someone I had barely known for an hour.

"It's complicated." I explained.

"Nah, man. It's cool," Timmy reassured me. "I liked modern things."

"Yeah," the girl confirmed. "You are standing in the presence of one of the few people on Earth with an appreciation for modern 'art'" she put that last word in air quotes.

"Hey twerp," he said seriously, as if that were her real name. "Shut-up." I watched them argue for a little while. As an only child, I have always been fascinated by sibling bickering.

The next and final roommate to arrive was Nate. He had blonde hair, blue eyes, and dressed like he had just stepped out of Plesantville. He was majoring in architectural engineering, and took it upon himself to rearrange what little furniture we had into an arrangement that was more pleasing to him.

The two of them really hit it off when Nate brought out his Xbox and the two of them started playing some graphic shooting game. I retreated to my room and played some music in my headphones in an attempt to drown out the noise.

I flopped down on my bed, grateful that my mom had insisted on getting me a mattress pad to make my bed more comfortable. I felt a slight crinkling of paper under my pillow and reached my hand underneath to find a note.

_Dear Henry,_

_I'm sure we've probably told you how much we love you and will miss you about a thousand times already, but I couldn't resist telling you one last time how much I love you and how proud I am of the man my little boy has become._

_Goodnight my sweet prince._

It was the strangest thing. Even though the note was short, my eyes started tearing up. And then I could see myself as my mom. I could feel the joy she felt as she held this little baby boy in her arms for the first time. I could feel her frustration when her two-year-old added red crayon drawings to her pristine black and white wallpaper of her office. I could feel her sadness as she sat on my bed crying into my pillow after her prince denounced her as an evil queen and left her for his other mother and grandparents.

I could feel the passion of a mother's love. It was like I had left my own body and entered hers.

_And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest_ , I muttered to myself as I turned off the light and closed my tear-filled eyes. I was really going to miss my family, but I would see them soon enough. Now was time for a new adventure.


	2. A New Adventure

I wasn't the only Storybrooke child who had left our little town of fairy tales to seek a higher education. The mad hatter's daughter Grace had dreams of creating robotic limbs and other cool stuff with biomechanical engineering, and apart from maybe Dr. Whale, no one in our town has a clue how to teach her that.

She invited me over to see her room now that everyone's pretty much moved in by now. Problem was, the dorm building is really weirdly shaped and I was starting to get lost.

I paced down the third floor, searching for room 348. _Let's see,_ I said to myself. _336, 338, 340, 342. Dead end. Again?_

I doubled back to the last hallway intersection and stood at the crossroads. _Which way, which way?_

I was startled from my thoughts from a voice behind me. "Lost, little Alice?" she asked.

"I-uh-um" I stammered. "Do you know where room 348 is?" I asked sheepishly.

"Listen carefully." She made a serious face and took a step towards me. In a lower voice, she instructed me, "Just go where your high-top sneakers sneak, and don't forget to use your head."

I stared at her, confused. "Um…" I started to explain to her that while I appreciated the Alice in Wonderland references, they didn't offer much help in finding Grace's room.

Her serious face broke out into laughter. "I'm just messing with you, man. You're Henry, right?"

"Yes," I replied immediately. "How did you-" I glanced down at my shirt wondering if I was wearing a nametag.

"I'm Grace's roommate," she explained. "She sent me to find you. Come on."

I followed the girl down a different hallway. Soon we arrived at room 348 and she opened the door.

"Henry!" Grace exclaimed, rushing forward to give me a hug. "It's so good to see you. Are you all moved in?"

"Uh, mostly." I replied, scanning the girls' room. It was scattered with empty boxes. There was a third girl connecting the wires from a video game console to a small TV in the common area.

"That's Ally," Grace explained, gesturing to the girl hooking up the TV. She gave a brief wave to me. "And you already met Rose." Rose smiled at me. Her chocolate brown eyes were the same shade as her hair, and her t-shirt featured a comic book rendering of Loki the trickster god.

"Hi guys," I said, feeling somewhat awkward and out of place. Rose began shuffling cards on their small table. "Is that Set?" I asked, catching a glimpse of the colored shaped on the cards. Rose shot me an excited look.

"You want to play?" she asked. I nodded and sat down as she began to set up the game.

"What is this?" Ally asked, having finished with the tv.

"You have to make sets," I tried to explain the rules and concentrate on the game at the same time. "Each set has three-SET" I interjected, and claimed my set as Rose put three more cards on the table. "Three cards," I continued.

"What makes a set?" Grace asked. Both she and Ally had sat down while I was concentrating on the game. I continued scanning the cards. Rose picked up one of the cards and began explaining.

"Okay," she began. "So each card has 4 characteristics. Color (green, red, purple), shape (ovals, diamonds, squiggles), number (1,2,3), and shading (open, shaded, solid). In the 3 card set, each characteristic must be a similarity or a difference."

"Wouldn't something always be a similarity or difference?" Ally asked.

"No, no," I explained. "Say if there's two green ones and 1 red one. That doesn't work, because for color to be a difference, they have to be all different colors. To be a similarity, all the same colors."

"Is this a set?" Grace asked, pointing to three cards of the same color.

"No," Rose judged. "Color's a similarity and number is a difference, but shape and shading don't work. See, you have 2 squiggles and one diamond. But you can have 2 similarities and 2 differences or 3 similarities and 1 difference or 4 differences. That part doesn't matter, as long as each characteristic is a similarity or a difference."

We had to reiterate the rules a few more times, but they got the basic hang of things. Grace even managed to get a set by the end of the first round. Ally began growing increasingly frustrated at the ease at which the game seemed to come to Rose and me. We were both enjoying ourselves, glad to finally have someone else at our level to play with. It's not so much a strategy game, but it does require a lot of practice and concentration.

After a couple rounds of Set, there was a knock at the door. Ally opened it to see two other girls who squealed and enveloped her in a hug. I noticed both of the girls had matching T-shirts that said gamma omicron.

Rose rolled her eyes at the display. "Her sorority sisters," Rose explained to me. "They've known each other for like 20 minutes, but they're _absolute besties_ " she said in a mocking girly voice. I stifled a laugh and glanced over to the three girls who had walked into Ally's room to comment on the style of her decorations.

"I'll give it two months before they decide they really don't like each other. Two years until they stop trying to fake nice and pretending they don't hate each other, though." Rose predicted.

There was more squealing and exclamations of 'cute,' during which Rose and I shared looks and stifled laughs.

Thoroughly satisfied that they had made her room as cute as possible, the girls came back to the common area to watch us play Set. There was more giggling and the two girls seemed to be pestering Ally about the boy she was texting.

"Is that _Grayson?_ " one of the girls asked with a grin on her face.

Evidently Grayson was the name of the boy Ally had been dating for the past year. Stella, who had curly blonde hair, thought he was really cute. Juliet, who had dark hair and brown skin, thought he was adorable in a dorky way, but not quite manly enough for her. Ally thought that their opinion of him didn't matter, because he was her boyfriend and not theirs. Besides, she thought he was super attractive but would still love him even if he suddenly wasn't.

I don't think I understand love.

I've had a girlfriend before. Back in Storybrooke, I dated a girl called Violet. She was from Camelot and I had a lot of fun teaching her about the new things like music. I always tried to act like a proper gentleman to her. We went on a few dates and would hold hands. But I don't know that I ever really loved her. I mean, I liked her. She was nice and pretty and all, but I always felt like I was playing a part in a play. One time I gave her a kiss because that was what couples are supposed to do. True love's kiss and fairytale endings and all that. It didn't feel magic; it felt robotic and awkward, but I remember smiling because I was happy to have kissed someone. Happy to have someone to love. That's what everyone wants, right? True love is the most powerful magic of all. Yeah, I liked her. But I didn't love her. Didn't dream about her eyes everytime I close mine or whatever other people say when they talk about how much they love someone. I started to wonder if everyone else just pretends to be obsessed with other people, just pretends their love is more intense than it actually is to give their life more meaning. Maybe people don't love the person they're with so much as the concept of being with someone, I finally decided.

I dated Violet for a few months before she broke up with me. I understood why she did it—I was leaving for college soon and it wasn't like we were running away to get married anytime soon—but I was still a bit disappointed. That was when I fully realized that I never loved her. I was disappointed to be alone and rejected, but I didn't miss her. I didn't cry over her. My moms kept trying to comfort me, but I was fine. The fact that I didn't feel anything kind of weirded me out, to be honest. Like either people make life seem a lot more dramatic than it actually is, or I'm just some emotionless robot doing my best to pretend to be normal.

Ally didn't feel like that. She actually loved Grayson. She would have loved him regardless of whether or not he was her boyfriend, regardless of whether or not she was supposed to.

I don't know if I'll ever fully understand that, but the shared glances between Rose and me made my heart beat a little faster, and I was starting to think that I just might.


	3. We are the Stuff Dreams are Made Of

I woke up before my alarm. First day of class. I glanced at my watch. 2 minutes before my alarm would go off. Was it worth it? I laid in bed until my alarm went off and started getting ready. Clean clothes, brushed hair, brushed teeth, washed face. I looked at myself in the mirror. Mother would be proud.

Well, except for the poptart I was having for breakfast.

First class of the day was math. Specifically, Pre-Calculus with Algebra and Trigonometry. Class didn't start for another 20 minutes, so I was one of the first there. I sat down in a front seat near the middle and took out the blue notebook labeled _MATH_.

The boy seated next to me clicked his tongue in what I assumed to be a disapproving manner.

"Blue?" he asked, and it took me a second to realize he was talking to me.

"Huh?" I asked. He pointed at my notebook, explaining his observation. "Uh, yeah. In my mind, math's blue, I guess."

"Math is red." He told me, and held up his red notebook labeled _Pre-Cal w/ Alg & Trig._

"Well, I say math is blue." I told him, in a less nervous tone.

"Nope. Without a doubt. It's red. Always been, always will be."

"You know," I began. "This may be the first time I've been in argument about colors with someone I don't even know." He offered me a smile, taking this as an opportunity to introduce himself.

"Alexander Nguyen," he proclaimed, as if his name were a great title. His black hair had a sort of bowl cut look to it, but somehow, he made it look good.

"Henry Mills," I said, offering my hand to shake his. He raised his eyebrow at this, but took it nonetheless.

"Well, Henry Mills, what's your opinion on math, apart from colors?"

"It's not my favorite," I admitted. "I prefer classes like English, to be honest."

"Ah, a book nerd, are you? Let's see, you're probably straight, right?"

"Umm… yeah" I said, hoping my face wasn't turning red.

"Damn. Okay, anyway, tell you what. You seem like a nice guy, so I'll help you if you need math help, and you can help me with my English papers. Deal?"

"Deal," I smiled. It felt nice to have a friend.

…

Later that day, I was getting lunch in one of the cafeterias on campus. College food is much better than normal school food. So many choices. I grabbed some pizza. Where to sit? Finally, I saw Alexander sitting with a curly haired boy. I walked over to their table and sat down. Alexander offered me a friendly smile.

"Nikola, this is Henry, the boy that thinks math is blue."

Nikola, the curly haired boy, groaned and pretended to bang his head on the table.

"Alex, the colors don't mean anything. Give it a rest."

"Never!" Alexander decreed. Nikola rolled his eyes.

"See what I have to put up with?" Nikola mock-complained to me.

"Hey, I've sat through your softball games. Those are ridiculously boring."

"No, they're not! You just hate sports." They both turned to me. "Henry, what do you think of sports?" I couldn't help but feel that this question was more of a treating me like a tiebreaker in an argument than an attempt to include me in the conversation. Evidently these two had been friends for a long time and I couldn't compete with that.

"They're okay I guess. I don't really care much for them." I replied.

"Ha! See?" Alexander took my response as an affirmation for his side. "Sports are lame. And he's even a straight boy who thinks so."

"Umm…" I wasn't really sure what to say to that. "Why do you keep calling me…" Nikola laughed.

"Henry, something you should know: if you hang out with Alex, he will point out your heterosexuality repeatedly." Alexander grinned, clearly pleased with himself. "To everyone. To your sister. To your roommates. To your mom. Everyone must know." He seemed to be speaking from personal experience. "And on that note, I must go. Good luck with that one, Henry."

"Hey, don't leave, buddy," Alexander whined. "Next time I'll be sure to tell your mom you're gay."

"No, seriously. I have a class." He left.

"Boring weather stuff probably," Alexander mumbled as he walked away.

We ate silently for a few minutes. Evidently, we didn't have much to talk about, apart from the color of math, and I didn't want to get into that argument again.

I was glad when I heard another familiar voice.

"Henry!" Rose exclaimed as she made her way towards me, backpack in tow. "There you are." She dropped her backpack down in an empty seat at our table and left to grab food. I watched her go.

"Awe, come on." Alexander said in an annoyed tone.

"What?" I asked, turning back to him.

"Look, man. You're into her, right?"

"Huh?" I asked, feeling my face turning red.

"Hey, it's not your fault," he continued with a laugh. "Can't help who you fall for, just who you pursue. But as someone who's constantly falling for straight boys, I'd advise against pursuing her."

"Wait, what? Why?"

"She just seems pretty gay, that's all. Nothing wrong with that, I just think you should think about that before you get in too deep and get your heart broken."

"Wait, what do you mean? How can you even-" but I shut up because Rose was coming back to the table with a grilled cheese sandwich and an apple on her plate. I hoped my face wasn't noticeably red, but Rose noticed and smirked.

"Awe, Henry," Rose began. Then, turning to Alexander, "who's your little friend that's got you blushing?"

"Alexander Nguyen," he said, giving a slight bow, "at your service."

"Rose Aster," she mimicked his gesture with a flourish of her own. "I thought making Henry blush was my job, but I must say, I'm impressed by your work." He gave Rose a wink and I crossed my arms.

"I don't like this," I proclaimed.


	4. No Perfection is Absolute that Some Impurity Doth Not Pollute

I knew English class would be great when I saw what the professor had written on the board:

_I have put too much of myself into it._

Once the class had officially begun, the professor addressed the class.

"Who can tell me the origin of this quote?" he asked. My hand shot up. If there was one thing I knew, it was books.

"It's from Oscar Wilde's _The Picture of Dorian Gray_."

"Very good. Any you are…" he paused, waiting for my name.

"Henry, sir."

"Well, Henry. Do you know what this quote means?"

"It's about the painting, sir. Basil—the artist—believes that he painted Dorian in such a way that he reveals his soul."

"Precisely. And can you tell me the irony of Basil's fear?" I thought about it for a moment.

"It wasn't Basil's soul but Dorian's that was in the painting?" I guessed. He made an unsatisfied sound, like there was a more correct answer he would have preferred.

"Not quite. Anyone else want to take a shot at it?" he asked. The class was silent for a few moments. "Come on, I'm not a sphinx. There's not a punishment for being wrong." Rose hesitantly raised her hand.

"Is it about how Wilde's like Basil?" she asked.

"Yes," he seemed pleased. "And you are?"

"Rose."

"Rose, could you explain to the class more about that?" Rose seemed a bit uncomfortable being put on the spot, but she began her story.

"Well, Basil is, like, this older guy who's in love with Dorian, but he can't do or say anything about it because being gay's, like, not allowed back then. So, when he paints him, he emphasizes all the beautiful things that made him fall in love with this boy, revealing his gayness and the true nature of himself. And Oscar Wilde is kind of like Basil. He also likes younger guys, most famously this guy he nicknamed Boisie. So, when he writes books, the gayness kind of, like, bleeds into them."

The professor gave Rose a grin. He seemed pleased with her answer, but she wasn't done. Evidently, the homosexuality of Oscar Wilde was a subject she was well informed upon and she intended to finish her story.

"Actually, he had to censor a lot of the gayness from the original story so the publishing people would publish it. Then Boisie's dad finds out that his son has this whole forbidden gay love affair with Wilde and sues Wilde for being gay, so Wilde" Rose paused to give a short laugh, "says the dad's a liar and the dad goes to jail for slander. He gives a rant trying to explain what Boisie meant when he wrote about 'the love that dare not speak its name' in a poem, talking about super close guy friendships like David and Johnathan because, you know, Bible and stuff. But then later, they prove that Wilde's gay and he goes to jail and the dad gets out. He gets back with Boisie once he's out of jail though, but then he dies a few years later."

I gave Rose a look, using my eyes to ask her why she knew all this. She just shrugged.

The Oscar Wilde conversation continued, with the professor asking questions until he found an answer that suited him. Sometimes this took a while, as many students had not, it seemed, even read the Picture of Dorian Gray. Sorority girl Stella, who is apparently in my English class too, asked if Dorian's painting could be considered a horucrux.

…

"Nate? Timmy?" I called when I got back from classes for the day. No response. Where was everybody? I knocked on Nate's door. No answer. I knocked on Timmy's door. It had not been shut properly and opened slightly. Should I snoop?

Before I even gave it much thought, I found myself standing in Timmy's room. Not the messiest, but not the cleanest either. It could certainly use a bit of febreeze. Then I saw it. A minifridge under his bed. Jackpot. I opened it to see what kind of snacks he kept separate from our stuff in the main fridge. Actually, I don't think I've ever seen him put food in the main fridge. What did he eat?

I was blown away by the abundance of post-it notes all over everything in the fridge. These weren't your average "don't eat this food, it's Timmy's" notes that might make sense, had the food been in the main fridge. Instead, these post-it notes detailed the nutritional information such as the calories, fat, and carbohydrates contained in various fruits and vegetables. What in the world?

Why would anyone care how many calories are in carrots? They're carrots. That's the whole point. Like, ice-cream I can understand, if you're into watching your weight and stuff, but this kid couldn't weigh much more than 100 pounds.

Then I could feel it. He used to love food, and would go on binges. I could feel how much he used to hate his body, how he lost a lot a weight, but it didn't make him feel much better. The binge eating continued, and he ate very little outside of that. It was a penance.

I could feel how annoyed he got when his family members remarked about how skinny he was and how he should eat more. That's not the problem, he thought. I'm eating too much. He stopped eating the food at family dinners and restaurants. Everything was too unhealthy for him, he complained. His parents complained that he would only eat salads most meals. He was a growing boy, they argued. He needed protein, especially since he kept going to the gym to work out. He started adding almonds to his salads and adding protein powder to his water to pacify them.

I could see him staring at his body in the mirror, looking for any imperfection that he could fix. He did fix some, but then he would notice new ones. It was never enough. Nothing he did was ever enough.


	5. Merely a Madness

There was a knock on the common room door. I darted from my room and opened it, delighted to see Rose Aster.

"Hey," I greeted her, moving aside so she could enter.

Timmy and Nate were sitting on the couch playing some first person shooting game. They had become close friends, which was great for them, but I couldn't help feeling left out, like I didn't belong or wasn't wanted when I spent time with them.

"Nice setup," she remarked on the video game console.

"Thanks," Timmy said, barely taking his eyes off the screen.

Nate, feeling the need to be polite, paused the game and turned to face Rose. "Hi, I'm Nate. That's Tim. Welcome to our home." He held out a hand for her to shake.

"Why thank you," she seemed mildly impressed by his gentlemanly nature. I felt a sudden urge to get a bowtie and a top hat and open a lot of doors for her. "I'm Rose, Henry's friend. Anyway," she turned to me, "there's an event going on in the multipurpose room, if you want to go."

"Sure yeah," I tried not to sound too eager, but it was a lost cause. I followed her out of the room. Nate and Timmy resumed their game.

The event involved creating a letter to send home, kind of a _'Hey, little Freshmen. Are you homesick? Well, come and try our arts and craft project. Golly, it's a sure lot of fun!'_ type thing. It felt a little patronizing, but there were cookies, so I couldn't complain.

I grabbed a few oreos and sat down with Rose. She had laid out some markers and stickers for us to use. I selected a purple marker and began making a card for my moms.

I wish my art skills were better, but I made a stick figure drawing of Emma with a sword and Regina with a fireball, fighting a dragon while I sat far behind them, immersed in a book, oblivious to the fight. I wrote a few sentences about how I missed them and the Charmings, but that I was having a great time at college and not to worry about me.

Eventually I looked up to see Rose's card. Evidently, she had brought a pencil, because the font on her card was much smaller than mine. It was almost like a letter. She hadn't done much drawing, but she did add some glitter around the edges.

"Oh wow," I commented. "That's a lot of words."

"Yeah," she said softly, and it looked like she was about to cry.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Yeah," she tried to hide her face. "It's fine. I'm going to try to find a red colored pencil." She got up and left me.

Now, I probably shouldn't have, but as I mentioned before, I'm a snoop, and I was also curious to see what was upsetting her and if there was any way to make her feel better because I don't like seeing her upset. So, I was just trying to be a good friend. I glanced over at her writing.

I only read a few words before it happened again. Maybe it was related to this whole Author thing, but sometimes writing lets me see into people's minds and I can feel what they feel. I'll admit, I sort of thought this would happen again, and I was very curious to see inside of Rose's mind.

The card/letter was addressed to her younger brother Sage. I could see him, in my mind. He had the same brown eyes, but blonde hair. She loved him so much. He had been her best friend practically since he was born.

Thanksgiving. She'd see him again at Thanksgiving. But that was so far away.

One week. That was the longest they'd ever been apart before. Now that time had tripled.

I could see them goofing off, playing video games, having splash fights in the pool, building Lego castles, sliding down the stairs on couch cushions even though Mom said not to.

I could see the fights they got into, how he would sometimes lose his temper and flip the chessboard because she won for the third time in a row. She got so annoyed when Sage would repeatedly ask her how to spell basic words that he should already know.

He got so offended when she called him stupid that it became a banned word in their household. But no matter how angry they became at each other, they were always best friends again by the next day.

I could feel how proud she felt when they were buying shoes for school and Sage wanted ones that were the exact same style as hers so they could be matching. I could recall their matching Halloween costumes and how they continued trick or treating together even when Rose was a high school senior. There was just so much. It was overwhelming.

I did my best not to cry as Rose returned with red and pink colored pencils. She began drawing a rose at the bottom of her paper and I smiled. A tear rolled down my cheek and I knew two things beyond a shadow of a doubt. Sage was the most important person in the world to his sister. And I was falling in love with Rose. She was the most important person in the world to me.


	6. Life is too important to be taken seriously

_I am not young enough to know everything._

Another English class off to a good start.

"Who can tell me anything about this quote?" the professor asked. No one answered. "Stella?" he asked, calling on curly haired sorority girl.

"It's by Oscar Wilde, right?" she asked.

"It's often attributed to him, but no. Actually, this is from JM Barrie's play, The Admirable Chrichton. Most people know Barrie as the guy who wrote Peter Pan."

"Oh," Stella breathed a sigh of understanding, "that makes sense."

A dark-haired boy sitting next to Stella raised his hand. "Professor?" he asked "Is this in the Isaac Newton sense that the more you learn, the more you realize how much you don't know, or was Barrie under the impression that children are actually more intelligent because they are more open to new ideas and less distracted by the trivial notions of adulthood?"

"What do you think, Grayson?"

Annoyance flashed across Grayson's face, an annoyance that I was sure pretty much every student understood. When teachers throw your own questions back at you. _No, I don't know the answer. If I did, I wouldn't be asking you, now would I?_

"I-" Grayson stuttered, "I'm not sure which one he meant. That's what I was hoping you would know."

"And what makes you so sure that he only meant one thing? Or even that author's intent is important to the way the reader interprets the text?"

"But-" this puzzled Grayson. He glanced over at Stella and I realized this boy must be the one Rose and Grace's roommate Ally was dating, the one Stella thought was cute and Juliet decided was adorable but not manly enough. Just in case you were interested in how squealy sorority girls rate him. I'm going to avoid rating him, but I can confirm that he has dark hair, green eyes, and absolutely no facial hair, so maybe I guess he was cute.

I saw a new message appear on my phone sitting on my desk. In high school, phones were strictly banned. They had to be locked in lockers and turned off if you didn't want it confiscated by the teacher. In college, no one really cared too much as long as you didn't have them out during a test and they didn't start making noises disrupting class.

It was a text from Alexander.

_'_ _EMERGENCY LITERARY ASSISTANCE!'_

_'?'_ I typed back

_'Help me with a paper?_ _?_ _Please. I know it's last minute, but Nikola (who was supposed to be helping me) decided he had better things to do.'_

_'Uh, okay sure. 2pm work?'_

_'Absolutely!_ _?_ _Thank-You!_ _?_ _You're a lifesaver!'_

"What do you think, Henry?" The professor asked, probably somewhat annoyed that I was on my phone. Maybe some teachers care. Luckily, I had been paying attention.

"I think that Barrie probably meant that kids are just better than adults because they're innocent and not, like he said, caught up in adult stuff. Barrie kinda had at thing for kids." Rose gave me a raised eyebrow. "No! Not like in pedophile way, he just liked kids. He liked playing games with them and making fun of grown-ups and stuff. He pretty much was a kid on the inside."

"Okay, so that may be what the author meant, but is that also what you think the quote means?"

"Are they not the same thing?"

"Not necessarily. A story is a message from the author to the reader. It can be largely influenced by the author, but sometimes it can take on a life of its own and mean something entirely different to the reader, or mean different things to different readers."

Alexander looked so relieved when I knocked on his door later that day.

"Oh, Henry, I am so glad you're here." His usual air of elegance was dropped and he seemed more frantic and stressed than ever. He thrust a laptop into my hands. "This needs a lot of work."

"Okay, yeah."

"Thank you so much again for helping me this. Nikola was supposed to help, but he decided to ditch me for Juliet _again_ ," there was a bit of resentment in his voice for his best friend. "And it's due _tomorrow_." The panicked tone was back. His head was in his hands.

"Hey, hey, hey," I waved my hand to try to calm him down. "No big deal. I said I could help you with English and writing stuff, remember? And you got the math covered."

"Covered in red," he mumbled, and I smirked.

The paper talked about how Frankenstein's monster met Foucault's model of what a monster should be, as something combining both the impossible and the forbidden. Alexander had a lot of the work done already, but I was able to help him make his arguments more clear and coherent.

Strangely enough, this was one of the few times since I've gotten my author powers that someone gave me a piece of writing to read, and I wondered why I did not see or sense anything about Alexander in my mind. Perhaps because the paper was not about him, or perhaps because it was not finished, or perhaps because he had given me the power to change it, to put a piece of myself in it as well.

Finally, when we were mostly done, Alexander's phone buzzed and a grin splashed across his face as he read the text. I raised an eyebrow as he tapped out a reply.

"Who ya texting?" I asked, in the playful way you tease your friends about their crushes.

"Elliot," he said, as if I was supposed to know who Elliot was.

"And Elliot is…"

"Oh, just this cute b-" he hesitated, "person." He corrected himself. "This cute person named Elliot that I met in Queer Club."

"And do you like him, like in a-"

"Them," he corrected me.

"Them?" I asked, wondering how Elliot suddenly became multiple people.

"Elliot identifies as nonbinary, meaning he—I mean they—don't identify with male or female and prefer to use gender neutral pronouns like they/them. I keep messing up his—I mean their—pronouns and I feel really bad about that, so I'm trying to get better. It's easiest talking one on one, because then it's just you/your, you know?"

"Huh," I wasn't really sure what to say.

"Listen, Henry. Can I tell you something personal?"

"Sure."

"Okay, so I'm gay-"

I interrupted him laughing. "I never thought you'd be nervous about coming out, especially to people who already know."

"No, that's not what I'm trying to say." He smiled a little bit, trying not to laugh, but his tone was serious. "I like boys, and I've liked boys for a while now. There are some people who tell me that it's wrong for me to like boys, and for the most part, I've told them to just shut up and let me live my life, ya know? They've tried to tell me that maybe I'm just confused and that girls are actually pretty appealing and can't I just be normal? And I responded with a flat out no. Maybe girls are cool for you, but not for me. Anyways, Elliot's not a boy, but I think I like them, and I don't want to upset Elliot by making them feel like a boy so that I am liking a boy, but I've been constantly saying how much I like boys and I don't want to tell myself that I don't."

I had to take a few moments to process this and come up with an appropriate response.

"Wow," I said finally. "That's a lot. Okay, um, I guess just live your life I guess. You know, just do what makes you happy. I mean, you originally came out so that you could feel free to like who you want, so I don't think you should feel like you have to like somebody or not like somebody based on their gender. Just, I don't know, be you. I mean, I know being gay is a big part of your identity, but it's not the only thing."

"Thanks Henry," Alexander said. "That was surprisingly good advice from a straight boy."

As cool as it was to sense people's feelings, it felt good to hear people confess them to me, like they actually want me to know their story.

"No problem," I replied

"Henry," Alexander started. "When Nikola started dating Juliet, the two of them became completely inseparable. They have ceased to be Juliet and Nikola and are now 1 singular Juliola. Like they started dating two week ago, and I haven't seen one without the other in well, two weeks. She lives here now, and Nikola won't give me the slightest attention when she's around. I have no idea how Elliot feels about me, but if they like me and we end up dating or whatever, I want you to slap me hard in the face if I ever become a Juliola."

I chuckled.

"I'm serious. Slap me as hard as you can."

"Alright I will, I promise."

"Okay," he grinned at me, and I felt lucky to have such a friend.


	7. To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people just exist, that is all

As I was walking down the hall to Rose's room, I noticed an adult woman standing in Rose's doorway. Then Rose stepped out into the hallway and I caught a glimpse of the woman's face. There was too much resemblance for this woman not to be her mother.

"Oh, Hi Henry," Rose said as she spotted me. "This is my mom."

"Hi," I told her mother, shaking her hand. "I'm Rose's friend."

"Oh, this is Henry," her mother gave Rose a grin, while the girl looked a little embarrassed. "I've heard a lot about _you_."

"Mom," Rose groaned in annoyance.

"Well Henry, I was about to take Rose out for lunch if you would like to join us."

"Thank-you. Sure, that would be great."

"College students aren't ones to turn down free food, I imagine."

"No, ma'am." I replied.

Rose was clearly embarrassed by the whole situation, and I enjoyed tormenting her. But I could also tell that she loved her mother and I was glad that she got to see her, even if she couldn't see her brother Sage as well. He had important marching band duties that he couldn't miss. Rose's mother also seemed to enjoy getting to meet one of her daughter's little friends, feeling more involved in her day to day life despite her being so far away. After lunch, Rose gave her mother a tour of the campus. Her mother invited me along as well, but I protested that I had homework to complete and returned to my dorm.

I did not expect to see Alexander sitting on the living room couch, talking loudly with Nate and Timmy as the three of them stared at the screen where at least one, though likely more than one, of them was playing a video game that involved lots of shooting and bloody violence.

None of them looked up to notice me.

"Hi," I tried.

"Hey" Timmy replied, not taking his eyes away from the screen. Nate and Alexander did the same.

"Oh man! Did you see that?!" Alexander called out, in a tone that sounded very Nate like but not at all Alexander like. The three of them were getting along very well. I knew Nate and Timmy had a brotherly bond that I was not quite part of, but I thought Alexander was my friend.

I tried to watch the game they were playing, but it couldn't captivate my interest like it did theirs. Finally, I went into my room.

It felt quiet despite the shooting noises that you could hear through the thin walls. I knew it wasn't a good idea to compare yourself to others, but I couldn't help it.

I could function alright in the academic world. But the social world? I thought I was doing okay. I thought Alexander would be my best friend. Guy friend, at least. But here he was, getting along better with my roommates. Maybe the people that I considered my friends saw me more as acquaintances. After all, Alexander only texted me because Nikola, his real best friend, flaked on him. But I thought we had a connection. He told me about his crush on Elliot. Maybe he was just so excited that he would have told anybody. Maybe he didn't have anyone else to talk to at the moment. Maybe he told me personal things because we weren't all that close, because I was just a buddy from class.

Maybe I was completely over reacting. I do that sometimes. Or do I? No, I definitely do.

Rose. She was my best friend. Although I hoped she would be much more.

That was my problem. I liked people more than they liked me, and as a result, I ended up feeling unwanted and worthless. I should just stop feeling, stop having emotions. Become Peter Pan.

He never cared for anyone other than himself. He had the overinflated sense of self-worth that came with childhood, and had not yet developed empathy for others.

He was free of all the troubles that came with growing up. How could he feel sad about losing friends when he couldn't even remember them, even if he did care for them.

I laughed to myself. Peter Pan fit many of the boxes on the checklist for a psychopath.

Extremely high self esteem, lack of empathy, lack of remorse.

He was guilty for murdering some of the pirates—and quite possibly some of the children—and yet he showed little remorse or regret. Although he often could hardly remember it the next day. The other lost boys never knew whether or not to believe him when he talked of his adventures, as he often made many of them up to appear more impressive to them. But he also did a great many things that he completely forgot about, his mind quick to move onto the next adventure and forget the past.

Pathological lying, need for stimulation, superficial charm.

It might be fun to never grow up, but Barrie created Peter Pan not to be envied, but pitied. He was stuck. He could never see his mother or remember his old friends. He could never care for Wendy in the way she cared for him. He didn't understand love. Perhaps because he had no one to stay and love him. Everyone else would always grow up and leave him.


	8. Expectations and Heartbroken Aggravations

"How'd your mom like the campus?" I asked Rose the next day over dinner at the cafeteria.

"She thought it was nice. She really liked you though," I noticed a hint of annoyance in Rose's voice. Jealously perhaps?

"Oh?" I asked.

"Yeah, kept going on about what nice young man you were." Rose rolled her eyes. "She's under the impression that her nice straight daughter has finally found a nice young man to settle down with and raise 2.5 children with a nice white picket fence in the suburbs." Rose made a face like this lifestyle disgusted her, but being married to Rose, having a family with her, sounded like a paradise to me.

"We could paint the fence blue if you want," I joked. She offered a faint smile.

"I can't even imagine her face if I brought a bride to the wedding instead of a husband," she said softly, and it was so sudden I couldn't tell if she was joking or not. "I love my mother, and that's what makes her homophobia all the more painful."

"Wait, you're gay?" I asked, feeling confident I knew the answer, but dreading it nonetheless.

"Yeah. I thought you knew that."

"No. I-I didn't. So I guess the wedding is off then? That's a shame." I joked, but I could feel my eyes tearing up.

"Henry?" Rose asked, seeing that I was in pain, oblivious to the fact she had caused it.

I avoided her eyes. "I'm fine." I stared down at my empty plate.

"Henry, what's wrong?" she asked a bit more forcibly.

"Nothing," mumbled as I took my stuff to the dish return window and walked out of the cafeteria, desperate to be left alone to cry in peace.

"Henry!" She chased after me, into the outside parking lot. One of the worst part about being in love with your best friend was having to hide your pain from them. They knew you too well. A random crush rejecting you, while still painful, could be coped with. How could you expect your best friend to comfort you, to mend your broken heart, when they were the one who shattered it in the first place?

I couldn't avoid her. She knew something was wrong and she wouldn't take no for an answer.

I stopped and turned to face her, my eyes filled with tears.

"I like you, you know that?" I don't know how I was able to say something so bold, perhaps because my fate had already been sealed, my world already shattered. We both knew she wouldn't love me back. Why hide my feelings any longer?

"Of course, Henry. We're best friends. I like you-"

"No!" I interjected, determined that she understand my meaning. "I like you more than as a friend. I would be perfectly happy in the hypothetical wedding."

"But Henry, you know I don't-"

"You don't like boys," I finished. "And I'm a boy. So, no love for Henry!" I was almost shouting at her. I didn't know why. My sadness had turned into anger. "No matter what he does, no matter how he treats her or her mother, no matter what he gives her! Nothing!"

Now Rose was mad at me. "I can't believe you, Henry Mills!" Her eyes were tearing up in her anger. I would have been terrified had I not also been infuriated. "I can't believe I thought you actually cared for me! I thought you were my friend. Turns out you're just another insufferable horny pig!"

With that, she stormed off. I retreated to the solace of my room. I don't know if there was anyone in my common room. I wouldn't have noticed anyway. I collapsed on my bed and cried into my pillow until I fell asleep.

In my dreams, I saw myself having dinner with Rose, right before the dreaded fight. No, hang on. For some reason, I sat a few tables over, scanning the cafeteria. But I saw me (Henry Mills) sitting a few tables over. When I saw Rose, I recognized her not as my best friend/crush, but as my roommate. My memories came flooding back to me, just as the memory of a dream fades when you wake. My name was Ally.

Ally and Stella sat at their table, waiting for Juliet to join them.

"Should we just go?" Stella asked, since the two of them had finished eating long ago and there was no sign of their friend.

Ally sighed. This wasn't the first time Juliet had flaked on them because of her new boyfriend. Stella didn't have a boyfriend, so she didn't fully understand what captivated Juliet.

From the moment Juliet and Nikola started dating, they became inseparable. Not only were they spending all their free time together, but they refused to eat, sleep, or even shower separately (really, how they both fit in the tiny dorm showers was beyond Ally's understanding but she preferred not to think too much about it).

For the most part, the only moments they spent separately were those in class.

Ally had been dating her boyfriend Grayson for almost 2 years now. They had kissed a few times, but the two of them were so awkward that they only ever kissed every few months and on holidays. Mostly they cuddled and watched tv shows or ate candy and played board games. They held hands and gazed lovingly into each other's eyes. Everyone said they were a cute couple.

At first, Ally took this as a compliment. Then it started to bug her. The others called them cute because their relationship was nonsexual and child-like. Cute as in elementary schoolers on the playground holding hands. Cute as in they were oblivious to the real grown-up stuff that goes on in ordinary relationships.

Was Juliet and Nikola (Juliola, as they had started to refer to the two as a single entity) an ordinary relationship? Ally shuddered to think so. They seemed happy. She was happy, at least she thought she was.

Grayson was pretty introverted and liked to have time to himself. As much as Ally didn't want a Juliola relationship, she wished Grayson would make more time for her.

She could hardly imagine him loving her so much that he didn't want to be apart from her for a second. That might be nice, she mused. Although, she wouldn't want to leave Stella alone, deserted by her two best friends for their boyfriends. So maybe it was good that she wasn't with Grayson all the time.

Neither Ally nor Grayson were particularly sexual people. Ally had always loved the childish hand holding, but seeing Juliola move so quickly made her want to try something new: kissing with tongue. Some of her other sorority girl, though shocked to discover she had never done so before, gave her a few tips that she wanted to try out. She proposed the idea to him, but he just didn't seem interested.

Weren't boys supposed to be horny all the time? But Grayson was different. He just didn't seem interested. Ally didn't want to admit this to anyone, because she had a feeling that she knew what they would say. He's gay. But he wasn't gay, because he wasn't interested in other boys. He wasn't interested in other girls. She knew him well enough to be sure of that much. He just wasn't interested in anything sexual. And she never had been before, which allowed both parties to feel satisfied in the relationship, but now she was starting to get curious, and he was still stuck in their elementary hand holding relationship.

But the trouble was, she didn't want to make out with anyone else. Whenever she pictured any other handsome stranger, she could appreciate them for astatic value, but didn't want to do anything with them apart from maybe a hug or something. She only had eyes for Grayson. She loved him. She could trust him. But maybe he didn't love her as much as she loved him. Maybe he didn't quite love anyone.


	9. The Most Exquisite Self Destruction

Stella scanned the cafeteria, looking for her friend Juliet.

Stella saw Rose, talking to her best friend Henry, looking as gorgeous as ever. Stella's gaze fixed on Rose, studying her silky brown hair and beautiful brown eyes. Rose looked gorgeous, just as always. Stella stared for a few seconds, then glanced away quickly, not wanting anyone to see her watching the other girl.

_Wait, I was confused. Were these my thoughts filtering in, my feelings for Rose?_

Suddenly Rose and Henry started arguing. Stella glanced over.

_I did not want to see this again. I tried to turn away, to shut it out of my mine, but I had no control over Stella._

Henry became upset and left. Rose chased after him. Stella almost got up and ran after them too, but she restrained herself. She tried to pretend that she hadn't been watching them, that she hadn't noticed anything was amiss, that she didn't feel any affection for Rose apart from one of her best friends being one of Rose's roommates. And what did she feel, really? Stella had a hunch, but she couldn't be sure.

_I knew. As my mind settled, I could see feel Stella's emotions and see into her memories. No feelings were coming from me, this was all on her. And for some reason, she hated me._

Stella had first encountered Rose at the same time she first encountered Henry. She had been in a different state of mind at the time, excited to be at college and do fun things with her sorority sisters and meet cute boys and wear pretty dresses and all that. Rose and Henry were playing a game in Ally's (and Rose's) room. Stella didn't pay either of them much attention at the time. The duo was also in her English class, and she learned the boy was quite quick-witted when it came to literary stuff, and it that kind of thing never came quite as easily to Stella. Her mind was more math and engineering oriented. Everything had a correct answer and nothing was 'up to interpretation' or anything like that.

As the semester progressed, Stella began to develop feelings for Rose that she didn't fully understand. She desperately wanted Rose to like her. She longed to make her laugh, to make her smile, to make her happy.

_Stella liked Rose the same way I did. This infuriated me. But she didn't! She couldn't! Sure, she could see her outer beauty, but she hardly knew her. Stella didn't know anything about Rose's favorite comic book character or the video games she would play with her brother or even her favorite food. All the things that made Rose Rose, all the things I loved about her, Stella had no clue. She had no right to even think that she liked Rose in the way that I did._

No matter how hard Stella tried, Rose never seemed impressed by her. In the few interactions they had, Rose seemed uninterested in continuing the conversation and her face always bore the expression of "okay, why are you telling me this? It's not like we're friends or anything."

_It gave me great satisfaction to know that Stella's crush (if you could even call it a crush) was also unrequited. Although a small part of me (it pains me to admit it) sympathized with her 'heartbreak.'_

Stella had often believed that it was Rose's reluctance to be her friend that made Stella so desperate to win her affection, but maybe there was more to it than that.

Stella hated Henry most of all because he possessed the ability to make Rose laugh. Rose adored Henry in a way that she would never adore Stella.

_Stella's emotions were so overpowering, I was losing sense of myself as Henry Mills, the observer. But I wanted to cry out to Stella, to tell her that Rose was far more likely to love her than me. There was no reason to be jealous of me, because I didn't have Rose either._

From the table where Stella and Ally sat in the cafeteria, Stella could see Henry and Rose yelling at one another outside the window.

She felt a strange need to protect Rose, to rescue her from anyone who dared to do her harm. This boy was supposed to be her friend, to treat her nicely, to make her happy, and here he was, yelling at her?

Stella hated Henry.

Stella knew the duo were merely best friends, as Rose had admitted to Ally and Grace that she was a lesbian, and Ally had told Julia and Stella right away. Part of Stella reveled in this information, because it meant both that Stella had an advantage over Henry for once, and also that Henry would never be able to date the girl he was clearly in love with.

_Okay, what? Apparently, everyone knew except me. I was really starting to hate this Stella girl too._

But the mere fact that Rose liked girls didn't mean that Rose would like Stella. Is that even what Stella wanted? Did she want to date her? Maybe. All she knew was that she was becoming obsessed with winning her affection.

She could remember having liked boys since middle school, but she had always preferred the more cute, feminine type. Once the boys her age started growing facial hair and getting deeper voices, they started to become less attractive. Some of the other girls liked this 'manly' look, but Stella still liked the cute boy type, with pretty faces and soft skin, not super tall or muscular. Ally had a cute boyfriend like that (who may or may not be gay himself). But Stella also remembered thinking girls had far prettier faces than boys in elementary school. Was that a universal fact, as she had thought, or a sign of some emotions buried deep down? She couldn't be sure. If she had had crushes on girls in the past, she had not been consciously aware of it. She could remember classmates and actresses that had each occupied the 'most beautiful girl in the world' slot in her mind from time to time, but she had always felt that liking boys made her normal, that she wasn't part of the 'queer kids.' But now she wasn't so sure. She didn't really see herself as the type to get a short haircut and stop wearing dresses, acting all masculine, dating girls, coming out to her family. That wasn't the future she pictured for herself or the future she particularly wanted. She wasn't gay. She was straight, with maybe a few exceptions. And Rose didn't even like her, romantically or even as a friend, so what was the point in making a big deal out of nothing?

_Okay, so maybe she also had an unrequited crush on Rose. But her feelings were much more superficial than mine._

Stella tried to focus on Ally as they sat at the table waiting for Juliet. She tried engaging in polite conversation about the food, but both of them seemed a bit distracted.

"Should we just go?" Stella asked, anxious to get outside.

By the time the two girls got outside, Henry had stormed off in the direction of his dorm building and Rose had walked in the opposite direction, evidently having forgotten that she and Henry lived in the same dorm building. Stella wanted to chase after her, to comfort her, but Ally hadn't noticed the commotion and Stella didn't want to alert her to the fact that she had been paying close attention to Rose because of some of her non-heterosexual inclinations. Ally and Rose weren't really all that close, as far as roommates go. But who could Rose turn to? Stella wondered. Her best friend had just stormed off.

_Well that realization felt like a punch to the gut._

"Hang on, I think I left my jacket." Stella said as she rushed off in the direction of Rose.

Rose was crying.

_Because of me._

Stella stopped a few feet from Rose, far enough away that the other girl had not yet noticed her. Stella paused, unsure how to approach her or what to say. It broke her heart to see her like this. It magnified her hatred for Henry.

_Maybe it was just Stella's emotions, but I was starting to hate myself too._

Would Rose even want the company of a girl she barely knew? Stella wondered, regretting her decision to chase after Rose. What had she been thinking?

Stella stood awkwardly nearby, wanting to help, but not sure how to. Did Rose need comforting? How would she even comfort Rose? Would a hug be comforting or an invasion of personal space?

Rose stopped crying and looked up. Stella offered a slight smile.

"You okay?" She asked.

"I'm fine," Rose replied. Stella knew this was a lie, but she didn't know what else to do. She returned to Ally.


	10. The Other Side of Unrequited

"So, no love for Henry!" Henry yelled at Rose. "No matter what he does, no matter how he treats her or her mother, no matter what he gives her! Nothing!"

_The words echoed in my mind. Was I being forced to relive this moment, trapped in some purgatory dreamland? But wait, this wasn't my mind. No, I knew exactly who this was. Everything about her was familiar and I couldn't be sure if the tears in my eyes were mine or hers._

Rose knew what an unrequited crush felt like. Having a crush on your straight best friend was practically an unavoidable right of passage for queer kids. So she knew it sucked. It made you feel unwanted, unloved.

_Exactly!_

But Henry didn't realize that was exactly how she felt too.

Rose had always wanted a best friend. The whole friendship bracelets, tell each other everything, sleepover at each other's house, kinda situation. To be the most important person to someone else. To have someone choose you to be their companion for life's adventures.

_But, you are my best friend, Rose._

Sure, she had friends. A few she may have told secrets to. But none of them really stood out as a best friend. In friend groups, Rose often felt like the outsider, like she could disappear and her friends would get along just fine without her. Like she didn't matter.

_How anyone could ignore Rose was a mystery to me._

Of course, she was the world to her little brother. Growing up, he was the closest thing she had to a best friend, and she adored him.

_I didn't have to be in her mind to know how much she missed Sage._

The hardest part about going to college was leaving Sage behind. Then she met Henry, and suddenly she felt important again. He wanted to know everything about her, and even in a large group, his attention was always focused on her. Of course, they rarely hung out with many people, preferring each other's company.

Thinking back on it now, how could she have not known he was in love with her?

Maybe she wanted to believe that she finally had a best friend. Maybe she was using Henry to replace her brother and the thought of a romantic relationship was the furthest thing from her mind, not because of her sexuality, but because she thought of Henry as her brother.

And now she was alone again. The boy she thought was her best friend had only been spending so much time with her because he was sexually attracted to her.

_But, no. That's not fair. No, that was Stella, not me. I know you, Rose. And I love you. Yes, you're beautiful, but that's not all you are to me. You're also my best friend._

When boys (or girls) complain about being 'friendzoned,' they complain of being led on, acting as if they had been deceived into thinking their platonic relationship could turn romantic.

But Rose felt like she had been the one who had been deceived. She thought she was getting into a friendship, but now the free trial had expired and Henry was gone because she didn't want to pay.

And the saddest part was that Rose had finally felt like she belonged, like she was important and wanted. But all he wanted was her body.

_But that's not true!_ I wanted to shout, but Rose couldn't hear me. I was just a visitor to her consciousness, a narrator to her story.

But what kind of story is it when the narrator is the conflict, and when the author knows the main character?

My eyes flashed open. This was my room. I was Henry Mills once more. Everything was a dream. But was it? Had I just returned from a supernatural experience, much like the ghosts that visited Scrooge?

I had momentarily ascended to the role of an omniscient narrator, only to be returned to my limited consciousness. I had a taste of my author power, but now I was back to being plain old Henry, a character in the story. The villain in the story.

But now I could speak. I could tell Rose what she meant to me. But would she even want to talk to me? Would she even believe me? Would I believe me, if I were in her shoes? I was in her shoes briefly, and I hated me.

I got out my phone and composed a text to Rose.

**Hey I know you probably hate me right now, but I feel really bad and wanted to say that I'm sorry for everything.**

Solid start.

**Yeah, I like you, and I've liked you for a long time, but I also really enjoy having you as a friend, and I wish I could just go back to the way things were before,**

I paused and then erased that second part. Because even though I loved hanging out with Rose much more than moping in my room alone, I didn't really want to the unrequited pining now that I knew I had absolutely no chance of being loved back. Before, there was always a little hope.

But what did I want exactly? What would be more painful: staying away from Rose, or being close, but never close enough? I wasn't sure. No, I was. I desperately wanted to be friends, but I needed to take a break from Rose for a bit to sort out my own emotions before I was ready for that.

**I also really do like having you as a friend, but I think I need some space at the moment.**

Then I erased that too, because that was just what she was afraid of, that once I knew she didn't want to date me, I would ditch her. Was I obligated to remain her friend? I didn't think so. If she wasn't obligated to do anything for me, then why would I be obligated to do anything for her? But now this sounds like I'm treating this friendship/relationship thing like a transaction, and that's not right either. I wanted to do the right thing, but I wasn't sure what that was.

I hit send, sending the message that just said I'm sorry. She read it. The dots appeared. And disappeared. Then they appeared again. And disappeared again.

I laughed to myself. Just like me, Rose didn't know what to write. I wished that the girl I was hopelessly in love with was someone other than her, and that the whiney boy she friendzoned was someone other than me. That way, we could talk and laugh about the situation, and get through it together.

But that wasn't the case. We weren't just telling each other stories. We were living the stories.


	11. Even Love Unreturned has its Rainbow

Eventually, Rose did send me a text message.

**I'm sorry too.**

Occasionally, we talked after that, but it wasn't the same. Nothing was the same. I had lunch with Alexander, who knew better than to brag about being right about Rose being gay. We didn't talk about Rose much. Instead, he told me about Dr. Thomas Dutton and other random historical people I had never heard of before. But it was nice to take a step out of my own story for a change.

His friend Elliot joined us some days, which seemed to make Alexander very happy. I'm not sure if they (Elliot likes us to use the pronouns they/them to be gender-neutral. It took me a little getting used to, but I've got it down now) are interested in Alexander in a romantic sense. Maybe they're just trying to make up their mind about him. Alexander definitely likes them though. Maybe this will become a relationship. Maybe another unrequited love sort of thing. For Alex, I hoped the former, because that would make him happy, but secretly I kind of wanted the latter, partly because I didn't want my now closest friend to ditch me to hang out with his new partner, nor did I want to be the third wheel at a cafeteria lunch table. I also wanted to see how Alexander would navigate the unrequited love situation. He was always much better at that sort of thing than I was (although he would protest that I was more knowledgeable, given that I had dated one more person than he had, my grand total of one versus his zero. Although I suspect that this came more from a lack of out homosexuals at his high school, than from any superior skill on my part).

Rose ate with Grace and Ally. I would occasionally glance over in her direction and wave. She would wave back. But that would be our whole interaction for the day.

At some point during the semester, Grayson and Ally broke up, because he never sat with her anymore and her sorority girls kept giving him angry glares whenever they saw him.

On Rose's birthday, I gave her a card that said Happy Birthday and had Charlie Brown characters, the kind of card you would get for your totally platonic friend when you wanted to show affection but also to be very clear that affection was not romantic in any way.

Stella also got her a card, elaborately decorated with roses and pink glitter and lots of nineteens. Rose thanked her politely but kept the card in its envelope.

Rose hated glitter. It got all over everything. All the glitter and flowers and pink, she hated all of it. It wasn't her style. It was far too girly.

Of course, Stella didn't know this, because she didn't know Rose like I did. Like I once did, at least.

Rose absolutely hated when people got her anything super feminine or expected her to act or dress a certain way just because she was a girl. She even hated the idea of things like colors and toys being feminine or masculine. She told me once that her t-shirt and shorts, which her dad called 'boy clothes,' had just as much of a right to be called girl clothes as dresses because she was a girl and those were her clothes.

And of course, this would be a big rant to give to someone who just wanted to give you a birthday card, but a perfectly acceptable rant to tell your best friend when it's late at night and you're reminiscing on your childhood and reliving your frustration with your parents about how it was always so much easier for your brother to get Legos and other fun toys growing up while you were given dolls and clothes 'because that's what girls like' even though you're a girl and what you liked was to play with your brother's racecars.

But Stella never got to experience any of Rose's rants, and that made me glad, because I was still working on getting over Rose and I didn't think I could handle seeing her with someone else.

But every literature class, I watched as Stella fell further, only a little bit ashamed that her misery was bringing me so much joy. Watching Stella kept my mind off Rose.

I'd like to say that I moved on, that I forgot all about Rose and found my true love and lived happily ever after. But the truth is, I'm still just living my life. I go to school, I talk to my friends, I call my moms, I write. I narrate other people's stories. I still haven't quite figured mine out yet.


End file.
